


Bad days

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria has a bad day</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is self conscious, self degrading. It's sad. It's completely about gender issues, so if that's not something you want to read, you shouldn't. But I do hope everyone will like this

 

 

Maria turns around in front of the mirror again. Her hair is still wet from the shower, it’s  darker than usual now, and she hasn’t gotten dressed yet. She scrutinizes her body harshly.

Today is a bad day.

She never had big boobs, and she thanks every deity known to SHIELD for that. She doesn’t know what she would do with herself if they were even more noticeable than this. But they’re still there. And she hates it, sometimes. She roughly pulls the flesh to the sides and turns so she can look at herself from the side. She’d look so good without boobs.

She swallows heavily and her eyes are beginning to feel the sting of oncoming tears, but she’s still determined. No matter how bad this day is, she will not cry. Not today. She doesn’t have anything to do today, no one to meet with. She can do what she wants. And she knows what she wants.

Still naked, she drags her body to her bedroom. She needs to open the bottomdrawer of her closet. It’s feels like an exhausting task but she needs it like she needs air. Everything in her body screams at her to do it, yet she can’t help but feel weak for needing it.

She sighs, no crying today. She’s allowing herself to have a bad day.

Her skin tingles with anticipation, and maybe a little excitement when she opens the drawer. The binder goes first. She… no… no more she. Not now. Not like this.

 _They_ got a long one, so it looks like a tank top instead of a sportsbra. It’s a struggle to put it on, but they kinda love how it cuts into their skin, flattening their chest completely. They already feel more confident.

Next comes the part that will never ever leave the comfort of their house, ever. They slip the packing underwear over their slim hips and pull it snug. The dildo goes through the little hole in the front, standing proudly at attention. Sure, they could just wear a packer, but when they pull their boxers on, they kinda like looking like they have an erection. They like looking down and seeing it as noticeable as possible.

Boxers and a tanktop. That’s what they’re wearing. They refuse to put on any more clothes. They cast a glance in the long mirror in their room. They see themselves standing taller. They’re still slightly ashamed, but they feel so powerful at the same time.

This might be a bad day, but sometimes, bad can be _really_ good.

They practically skip to their fridge for a beer, the dildo bobbing up and down in their boxers  and it’s _awesome_. Normally they don’t like beer, but it’s obviously a day of exceptions.

They plop down on the couch, slouching, legs wide open. This feels so right. They take a long swig of beer and pull the laptop on their lap.

They feel a little lazy, so not like how they normally feel. No figure-hugging suits that seem to hug the completely wrong figure. They pop their feet on the little coffeetable with a happy sigh. _This_ is the life.

Their laptop buzzes to life, and they don’t hesitate to open the internet browser, itching fingers and brain scrambling to figure out which site they’d visit. They decide to go with all-time favorite, Pornhub. It’s dirty but fast and it always gets the job done for them.

They settle on a video of a redhead, it doesn’t look that particularly great, but then again, porn usually is a disappointment in the end. Besides, they kinda have a thing for redheads.

It’s only a seven minute video and as soon as they click it, their living room is filled with loud, horrifyingly fake moans when the redheaded lady is being attacked with dicks from all sides. They turn the volume down hastily, afraid a neighbor might hear, but when the thudding of their heart calms down, their eyes focus back on the screen.

They imagine it’s their cock, they always do. But then their traitorous brain starts imagining an entirely different lady on the receiving end, and they have to close the tab. No matter how bad of a day, they would never go _there._

Awkwardly staring at Natasha as she passes in the hallway is one thing, imagining her sinful red lips wrapped around their dick… well… that’s actually a pretty amazing thought…

But no. No thinking of Natasha. Not like that. It’s demeaning and wrong and so, _so hot._

They groan, they’re so not in the right mindset to start thinking about their crush on an agent they’re supposed to be responsible for. It’s bad to even consider this. And they know that even if, even if Natasha could maybe be remotely interested, nothing could ever happen.

How would they even begin to explain _this_ to her. They look down at their own body, suddenly feeling ridiculous and self conscious. Who could ever love them for who they really are? Who could ever accept them, if they can’t even accept themselves.

They don’t even know who they are. Not even _what_ they are. The only thing they really know, is that they’re not supposed to be like this. This… wrong.

The tears they have refused all day are now filling their eyes and it’s becoming harder to breath because of that awful lump in their throat. They don’t belong here. Not in this world. The only place where they can ever really live is in their home, when nobody is around, when nobody can judge.

It’s no life for them. It’s just not fair.

This bad day has definitely just turned to the worst day and the laptop is pushed aside so they can hug their knees to their chest.

The binder that cuts so nicely is now only restricting their breathing, and the hard plastic of the dildo is squished uncomfortably against their stomach. The poking appendage feels like it’s just mocking them, prodding their soft flesh.

They feel horrible. Sad and lonely. And nobody will ever understand.

Tears are streaming down their face, and they’re huddled onto the couch, wishing they could just disappear into the fabric. Just disappear forever.

They’re lost inside their mind, inside the thoughts of how disgusted people are by the mere idea of them. So lost and there’s nothing that can keep them save.

“Maria? Maria what is wrong?” There are hands on their arms, trying to pull them out of their balled up position.

The use of that name makes them sick, and they can’t stop the loud sob of sadness. They don’t know who it is beside them, but when they’re pulled into a tight, soft embrace, they can’t bring themselves to care. They just cry into that soft shoulder, letting all the feelings and the fear overwhelm them, praying that this woman will hold them together while they feel like they’re shaking apart.

“Hey come on now, don’t cry.” A soft hand strokes through their hair, “Please don’t cry Hill.”

The words only make them sniffle louder into her neck, they’re sure they slobbered all over her, but they can’t be bothered. It’s nice to be held like this. Warm, soft. For a second they think they might have actually died. And now an angel is dragging their tired, wrong body to another realm.

They don’t mind being dead so much if they can just be held a minute longer.

“Hill… don’t cry. I’m sure it can’t be that bad?” Her voice is soft and low and they wish they could believe her but it is. It is that bad.

There’s a kiss pressed against their hairline and they could just stay there forever, molten into this hug with whoever this may be.

“D-Don’t let go.” They whimper, and the arms around them tighten just a little bit.

“I won’t, okay? I’m here.” She whispers, “You want to go to your bed? A nap might make you feel better?”

They don’t answer, the question just doesn’t seem to settle into their screaming mind.

“Maria?”

“Don’t call me that.” They don’t mean to snap, but they just can’t hear it anymore. They just don’t want that lurching in their stomach, they don’t want to feel so different.

“Huh?” The hand in their hair falters, “Wh… Why not?”

 _Don’t pull away!_ They want to scream and yell. Their heart thuds loudly in their chest, they don’t have any words to explain, so they just try to claw to the woman on their couch, force her to stay close. To stay here.

“Mar… Hill…” She settles a hand on their shoulder, trying to push them away a bit, “Hill, what is wrong?”

“No! No don’t look at me.” They rush face-first into her shoulder again, trying to hide from the world, “I’m not right.”

“Hill it’s fine,” She shushes them calmly, “Come on honey, let me see you. I need to know you’re not hurt.”

They’re not hurt, yet they are at the same time. It’s like their insides are trying to fight their way out. Their skin itches and they just want to claw all the wrong away. They just want this entire wrong body to go away.

“Come on Hill, work with me here.” They can hear an edge of frustration in her voice, and the panic just keeps increasing. She doesn’t need to be here. In fact, she shouldn’t be here at all. She could just leave. She could leave them.

They let their hurting body be pushed away, they let soft explore her burning  skin with tightly closed eyes. They can’t bear to see the look of disgust forming onto the woman’s face.

“You look fine… So I’m guessing you feel sad?” She whispers instead, “Do you want to go put some clothes on? It might make you feel better? Though I am digging those Cookie Monster boxers. Very sexy.”

It’s a lame joke. And her voice betrays more awkwardness than amusement. But they don’t mind so much. At least she’s trying.

“Come on then, let’s go find you some clothes…” She stops, clearing her throat, “You… you should probably open your eyes at some point though sweetie, I’m not carrying you to your bedroom… I don’t even know where it is.”

They sigh sadly, they’re not ready to share this with someone else. They’ve always wanted to, and they know that if she’s seen their boxers, she knows, but they don’t want to see it on her face. They don’t want her to know, but at the same time they do and it’s just all so horrible and confusing. They’re on a rollercoaster and all they want is to get the hell off it.

That wonderfully soft, small hand finds its way to their cheek, wiping away the tears that streaked their face, “Sweetie, it’s alright. You don’t have to tell me anything, we don’t ever have to talk about this… about _you_. I just need you to open your eyes.”

They couldn’t resist the safety of her soft voice, and they opened their tear-filled eyes.

And in front of them, was their worst nightmare. _Natasha._

How had they not recognized the voice that haunted their every daydream?

“There you go sweetie.” She smiles happily down at them, putting out her hand to pull them off the couch, “Go on then Hill, let’s get you dressed.”

“Sec-Second door. Left.” They stumble over their words like an awkward teenager, embarrassed about their appearance. Natasha is going to think they’re a loser.

Her small hands keeps a gentle hold on theirs when the redhead pulls her to the bedroom, and of all the times they have imagined this, it never happened like this. Never when the woman dragged them along out of pity.

 Natasha doesn’t seem to notice their pout, she just pushes them on the bed, “Where do you store your… _casual_ clothes?”

It’s a sweet try, and they can’t not smile hesitantly at the usually so confident woman. Natasha is out of her depth here too, and it’s kind of nice to know they’re not alone.

“Drawer. There.”

Natasha moves through her stuff like she owns the place and they admire the sight of her when she pulls out what they’re supposed to wear.

“You should hang your shirts Hill. They get all wrinkly folded up like this.”

“I know.”

They stay silent while Natasha riffles through the meager few clothes they own. The clothes that actually fit _them_. Maria has the entire wardrobe, they just have the one drawer to work with. But they manage.

She tosses some dark jeans and a plaid shirt to them, “That fine?”

“Yeah.” They grab the jeans, trying to put them on while sitting down. They’re awkward, fumbling around as if they’ve never put pants on before. It earns them a chuckle from Natasha.

“Honey, not to be rude, but I think you should take care of _that_ first.” Natasha points to their lap, and it’s only then they realize the raging boner that has been on full display all along.

They groan, embarrassed and disappointed in themselves. Natasha should not be seeing this, nobody should really, but certainly not Natasha.

“Hill. It’s okay.” Natasha crouches down in front of them, her hand on their knee and they could just cry from the softness of her touch, “Do you… have another one? Less… hard?”

They wish the ground would swallow them up right about now. This is not a conversation they want to be having. But they nod anyway, pointing to another drawer.

Natasha stares at their hand, “You uh… You should probably do that yourself, no? I mean, I don’t mind… but… you know… it’s still… it’s still my hands on… well… on your dick.”

Her words should not have this effect on them, but now the image is in their head and it’s _good_. They blame it on Natasha’s voice. It’s just too sexy.

“Hill? You still there?” Natasha smirks, “Come on then, I’ll turn around, okay? Just call when you’re ready.”

With Natasha back to them, they scramble of the bed, tugging her boxers down and awkwardly fumbling with the dildo. They replace it with their favorite packer, slightly too large for their thin frame, but that’s probably the entire appeal of it. They like thinking of themselves as big. It’s an ego thing.

“Done.” They flop back down on the bed, one hand subconsciously covering the bulge in their boxers.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, “A little late for modesty, don’t you think?”

They shrug and Natasha smiles, not making another comment. They like that about her, she knows when to stay silent. They appreciate a good silence.

Natasha grabs the jeans from the bed and pulls them up their skinny legs. The zipper goes up, the button is closed and Natasha grabs the shirt.

“I can do it.” They argue meekly, but they don’t want Natasha to stop. The touch was so nice. They haven’t had that… well, ever.

“But I’ll do it for you.” Natasha smiles, helping one arm into the sleeve, then the other. Button after button is done up, slowly. And it makes it even harder to breath when Natasha does the top button, nose to nose.

“You look very handsome.” She whispers, her hand pushing some of their hair of their forehead, “I really like this shirt on you. You should wear it more often.”

They nod stupidly, at a complete loss for words. Natasha is so close. So soft in every way. It’s wonderful but also completely terrifying.

“What… what should I call you?” Natasha asks carefully, “I can’t keep saying Hill forever.”

They bite their lip, a nervous habit they never seemed to be able to shake, “It’s… Martin.”

“Martin.” The redhead nods with a slight smile, “I like that. It suits you.”

It’s wonderful. There’s no other word. Natasha just… she just takes it. She doesn’t flinch or falter. She just takes it all in with her usual grace.

“You’re wonderful.” Martin whispers. It has to be said, Natasha deserves it. She deserves to hear it every second of every day because it’s so ridiculously true.

“Don’t be stupid.” Natasha rolls her eyes, “You feel better?”

“Uhu.” They suddenly realize something, “Natasha, why are you here?”

“I was in the neighborhood. I got hungry so I came to raid your fridge.”

“Oh. I can cook you something?” They offer quickly.

“Well aren’t you the perfect guy.” Natasha winks with a smug smile and Martin’s ears burn at the compliment, “What are you waiting for, go cook for me.”

Natasha swats playfully at their bum and for someone who normally doesn’t like being touched, Martin can’t seem to mind. They like being touched by Natasha. She’s just so soft.

The redhead watches them as they move through the kitchen, confidence building with every step they take, “Pasta fine?”

“Perfect, handsome.” Natasha teases and flirts with everybody, they know that, it’s just who she is. But they can’t help but blush and feel special when she does it to them. It’s not just the flirting, it’s the fact that it’s _Natasha_ and she’s saying all the right words, and it just does something to them. It’s feels so right.

They don’t feel like a freak. Not around Natasha.

It’s liberating and they finally feel like they can breathe. It’s odd maybe. But the way Natasha just doesn’t bat an eyelash, the way she treats them like any other regular human, it’s everything they ever wanted.

“Thank you.”

Natasha smiles and does this weird sort of half shrug, “How do you feel about questions, though?”

“Not a fan.” Martin says honestly, “But I guess I owe you an explanation.”

“You owe me pasta Martin.” Natasha is quick to say, “Nothing more.”

“I… I want to try.” It’s careful, and maybe they don’t really want to, but Natasha made an effort so they should too, right?

“You can always change your mind, yeah?” Natasha is careful with her words, like they can break if she’s too loud. They never liked being babied like that, but when Natasha does it, it’s nice.

“Yeah.” They know they can stop her at any second, but they’re still nervous. Martin is glad they can busy their shaky hands with cooking for Natasha.

“Is this… God Martin, I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s hard to find words, you know?” Natasha sighs and they feel oddly happy that she’s putting so much effort into finding the right words. She’s goddamn worrying about offending them.

“I know.” It’s all they can say because they do know. They know how hard it is to find the words, even when it’s just in their head, when they’re trying to figure out who they are. They can’t seem to find any word that fits and it’s annoying and upsetting.

“I’m just going to say what’s in my head, and it’s not meant to be rude but you can grump if it is, okay? Can we work with that?” Natasha wonders. It’s weird to see her so uncertain, and yet she’s completely in charge of the situation at the same time.

Martin decides that anything right now is weird and odd.

“Is this… Is this who you are? Like… the real you? Or is it… I don’t know, an experiment?” Natasha sighs unhappily, “That did sound rude, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that Martin, I’m just being too curious.”

“I don’t know who I am.” They mutter the words, slightly ashamed. They aren’t a kid anymore. They should have figured this out years ago but they didn’t. Because they were too ashamed and too scared of what all this actually means so they just push it down until it comes bursting out. Until they can’t hold on anymore.

“No one really knows who they are I guess.” Natasha is there with her right words, “I just… worry? This is completely not who you are at… at SHIELD. I worry about you. I don’t like that you’re feeling not you so much.”

“Makes two of us.” They watch the water start to bubble. They’re not being open with Natasha, and they feel a little guilty for answering so vaguely when she is trying so hard. They can’t even meet her eyes, afraid they’ll see the frustration that they’re feeling reflected into her green eyes.

They hear Natasha rise, they feel her step closer, but stopping behind them. “Can I… touch you?”

“Yeah.” It’s a breathless whisper and their heart is hammering in their chest when Natasha’s hand strokes her shoulder. They feel the goosebumps rise when Natasha’s hand dances down, skimming so softly over their back.

“You’re ticklish.” The redhead notes when they flinch away when her fingers brush their side.

“Don’t tell anyone.” It’s supposed to be a joking threat but it come out a plea. _Don’t tell anyone_ that they’re ticklish. _Don’t tell anyone_ they’re a freak.

“Never.” Natasha’s words blow over the back of their neck, “Tell me, Martin, who knows you’re ticklish?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody?” She slips her hands around their waist, hands stroking over their stomach and they think they might just throw up from nerves. They can feel her small body press up against theirs and it’s _weird_. Because having her this close takes their breath away and at the same time they feel like they’ve never been able to breathe before she was here, before she was close.

“Nobody.”

“You never…”

Martin shakes their head, “It never feels right.”

“You want me to let go?”

“Please don’t.”

“I won’t.” Natasha squeezes them tighter, “Never.”

“Never.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't plan on writing more for this. But then I did, so... I don't know.   
> It's angry and confusing and sad, so just a little heads up.

“Pasta’s done.” Their voice is quiet and hushed, like they’re telling Natasha a secret, when in reality there’s just not enough force in their body anymore to speak up. They’re just so damn tired. And they’re tired of being tired. It feels like the awful will never end.

“Smells good.” Natasha offers, following them to the dinner table.

They put the plate down and offer her a weak smile. She doesn’t comment on how horribly fake it is.

“One plate?” She notices, “You’re not eating?”

“Not hungry.” There isn’t any room in their body for food. Not when every inch is being filled up with shame and loathing and sadness and just plain _wrong_. They’re just too wrong to eat.

It’s not logical and it’s not healthy and they know that. But they can’t help it. How can they eat when all they want to do is throw up until there’s nothing left of them anymore. Nothing left to hurt.

“Sit.” Natasha orders with her voice so soft and sweet and they have to listen. They have to listen to Natasha. She deserves to be listened to. She deserves the world. She deserves more than them.

“You have to eat Martin.” She pools into their lap, touching them everywhere all over and now they’re really not hungry because they feel like they’re going to throw up. It’s too much.

They swallow heavily, there’s just so much happening and it’s all overwhelming.

“Open up.” Natasha’s waving the fork in front of their face and when they try to protest, the redhead pushes the fork past their lips, force feeding them like they’re a baby.

Their mouth is dry but their eyes are wet and stinging. The next bite disappears into Natasha’s mouth and she’s using that same fork and she’s touching. There’s so much touching and it’s not right. They’re not right and all their wrong is just touching Natasha and it’s not okay. It can’t happen. It has to stop.

“Get off.” They’re panicking, trying to push Natasha away with sweaty hands. It’s too much, it’s just too much.

“What? Honey what’s wrong?” Natasha grabs their face and they just want to scream.

“Get off! Get off!” They want to stand but she’s still sitting on their lap and they can’t just throw her off but she has to go. She has to move. They can’t breathe with her this close. They can’t think.

Natasha jumps to her feet and her face is so concerned they can’t stand to look at her. It’s not okay, they can’t see that look. They’re too different. They’re too wrong. Natasha has to know that. She has to see that. There’s no way she can not know how disgusting they are.

“Calm down, Martin, calm down.” Her voice is firm, she seems so calm when they’re just about ready to curl up and cry until they disappear, “What’s wrong honey?”

“Me!” They’re so angry and it’s not fair, but goddammit! Nothing is fair, “Me! I’m wrong! I’m disgusting!”

“Martin!” She grabs their flailing hands, clammy and shaking, “You know what I have lived through. You have read my file. I can make you a top 100 with all the disgusting things I’ve seen, hell I can make you a top 1000. You don’t come close to that list. You never will.”

“I’m so wrong. I’m so wrong.”

“You’re not, baby. You’re not wrong.” She kisses the back of their hands, soothes the skin that feels like it could crawl away from their bones and they wouldn’t even mind if that happened, “I’m here for you, okay?”

But it’s not okay. Nothing will feel okay. They’re panicking, the whole world seems like it’s collapsing around them. It’s overwhelming and chaos and they don’t even know what’s going on anymore.

“Can I hug you? Or… anything… Martin, honey, is there anything you need?”

“N-No please, don’t touch. Please don’t touch.” They’re a whimpering, pathetic mess. Natasha should go, she should just leave them to wallow in their own misery. But they don’t want her gone. Now that someone knows, no matter how awful it feels that someone knows, they want her to stay.

“Okay, I’ll just be here yeah?” Natasha squeezes their hands but then drops them because they asked her to, they asked her to stop touching and now all they want to do it cry out for her, “I’m sitting right here, take your time okay?”

The plate scrapes over the table when she pushes it away and she sits down on top of the table, right in front of them, right there. Too close but miles away.

“I can’t… I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Natasha asks and yeah. Can’t what? They don’t know. They just know they can’t. They can’t do anything. They feel so… opposite. Their entire being is opposite.

They can’t breathe, but they never breathed so hard. They can’t think yet their mind is overflowing. They can’t cry out but tears are streaming down their face. They don’t want her here but she can’t leave. _Please don’t ever leave._

“Martin… sweetie…” They can’t stand it anymore. She’s so quiet and the pity in her voice is like a jackhammer to their skull. They want to scream and cry and it’s not happening and they just… they need her.

They burry their face into her stomach, sobbing all over her… again. It’s not like they have any self worth left anyway.

Natasha accepts the clinging, her hands moving to comb through their hair, soothing them with her soft voice.

“I’m here honey, let it out.” They’re screaming into her soft skin, all the pain and hurt comes bubbling up, consuming them, “Good boy, let it all out honey. It’s alright, I’m here for you.”

She kisses the top of their head.

They have to stop her, “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

It’s embarrassing, but then again, they’re already slobbering all over her shirt, it can’t get any worse, “Don’t kiss.”

“Okay,” They go back to stroking their head, because she’s perfect like that, “Why not?”

“Because.”

“Does it make you feel better?”

“Yeah.”

Natasha smiles, “But you still don’t want it?”

They nod, “No kiss.” It’s too confusing. Things are bad enough as they are, they don’t want to add on. They’ve made enough of a fool of themselves already.

She holds their head close to her, and they allow themselves to believe for just the slightest second that Natasha is clinging to them too. That it’s not just their hands that are sweating, their heart that can’t quite find a rhythm. They’re fooling themselves, luxuriating in the softness that is Natasha.

“Are you falling asleep there?” Natasha asks after a while, a strange fondness in her voice. They might be imagining that though, how can she be fond of them? Her T-shirt is covered in their tears and snot.

“No.” But they are tired. Crying always exhausts them and Natasha’s fingers dancing on their scalp is just so damn soothing. It’s like she just knows how to calm them down with one word, with one touch.

“I don’t believe that at all.” Natasha is chuckling now and they smile along weakly. They should have known better than to try and lie to her, “You want to go to bed handsome? You might feel better after a nap? Clear your head a bit.”

 _Handsome_. How just one word can make such a difference, Martin will never understand. But the tenseness leaves their shoulders just a tiny bit. It feels nice, being handsome. Nobody has ever called them that, they’ve always been pretty, and while it’s a sweet compliment, it always stung. They like being handsome. They like it a lot.

“Martin?” Natasha nudges, “You can’t hide in my shirt forever honey. What do you want?”

_You._

“I can’t sleep.”

“You don’t know until you try.”

“I can’t.”

The anxiety is coiling in their stomach like a snake. The sound of Natasha’s sigh drones through their mind. Their fingers clutch onto Natasha’s shirt, they need something to hold onto, because they feel like they’re going to explode in a ball of pure jittery energy. They know that feeling too well, like when they’ve had that one cup of coffee too many. That rush of caffeine pounding through their veins, feeling like it will pour out of their ears. That feeling. That is what they feel here in Natasha’s arms.

They’ll never be good enough.

“Martin? Talk to me?”

They can never explain this. It’s too hard even for them to understand. So they nod, “Yeah, I’ll take a nap.”

It seems like the easiest solution. Avoiding any and all questions. But Natasha frowns, “I’m staying. I’ll be on the couch.”

“Don’t. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Natasha brushes her hand through their hair again, “You don’t need to lie. Not to me. Please.”

They nod awkwardly, regretting it immediately when the movement makes her hand fall away.

“I’m staying. I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Like what? Like what?!” They snap. They’re raising their voice, they don’t mean for it to happen but it does. All the nerves, all that disgusting self loathing raises like the bile in their stomach, “LIKE WHAT! Like the monster I am? Like me?! Like a disgusting freak! I am a freak! I am nothing! I can’t even… I can’t…”

“You! You are you Martin!” Natasha grabs their face forcing them to look into her eyes and she almost seems as angry as they are, “You are _Martin_. You’re not a freak. But you _are_ breaking down! And I’ll be damned if I let something happen to you!”

They sob, because it’s all they seem to be able to do today.

“Make it stop. Please. Make it stop.” They barely hear their own voice anymore, they are barely there anymore, “I don’t want to anymore. I can’t do this.”

Natasha hushes them, pulling them back into her arms, “You can do this sweetie, you can. And I’m here Martin, I’m here.”

“Don’t go.”

“I won’t.” Natasha whispers, “I’m right here. Come with me honey, let’s get you into bed.”

They want to protest, but she stops them, “Just to lay down. You don’t even have to close your eyes if you don’t want to.”

And they let her drag them to their bedroom for the second time that day. And when Natasha pushes them gently onto the bed, they cling to her hand and drag her down with them.

“I need you.” They whisper, exhaustion is winning from the seemingly never ending shame they feel.

“I’m here.” Natasha pulls them close, their face hiding into her chest, “I’m here, love.”

Martin listens to the sound of her heartbeat. It comforts them just as much as her small hands rubbing circles on their back. They hate being touched. But Natasha is an exception.

They move, trying to get as much of their awkward body on top of Natasha without crushing her.

“I need you.” They offer as a meek explanation.

“I’m here sweetie.” Natasha shuffles underneath them, pulling them even more on top of her, “Anything you need, I’m here.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Natasha shrugs, hesitating quietly, “Let’s not talk about all that honey. Just rest.”

They accept the answer for what it is, they’re not going to be a hypocrite and demand Natasha explains herself. So they just count their blessings and nuzzle their nose into Natasha’s soft skin, trying to let go of some of the tension.

Natasha hums a tune of a song they’ve never heard before, kissing the top of their head in between breaths. And though they told her not to earlier, right now, right here in this bed, maybe they can just  hide from reality and just pretend that it’s okay. They want it to be okay.

Somewhere between the nuzzling and soft hands and just the general exhaustion of the day, Martin dozes off into a dreamless slumber. Not quite asleep, but nowhere near awake.

And Natasha holds them, like it’s something she always does. _If only._


	3. Chapter 3

They wake up slightly disoriented and more than a bit uncomfortable. The binder is cutting into their skin. They shouldn’t have slept with it on, they know that. But circumstances were… a little peculiar.

Natasha isn’t there anymore. At least, she’s not in the bed anymore, because she promised she’d stay, right? Or was that all a dream?

They can’t believe how bad things have gone. They were just going to have a fun quiet day with themselves. Just to charge their batteries for the coming, no doubt stressful, week. And then shit hit the fan like that.

And all they wanted to do was freaking jerk off.

They curse how emotional they are. And they curse how uncomfortable they are. The binder doesn’t feel nice anymore and their jeans got all twisted around their hips so that doesn’t feel so great either.

They sigh. Why can’t they just wake up without any problems? Why do they always have to be so freaking different?

They try to wriggle their jeans into the right position again but the pants won’t work with them. With a frustrated grunt they just unbutton them and kick the jeans to the ground. Problem fixed.

Kind of.

It doesn’t matter, does it? It’s their home. They can have underpants-day whenever they want. Natasha won’t mind, she’s seen everything already. There’s nothing to be ashamed about anymore. Right?

The strange defiance they’re feeling is actually kind of liberating. Who cares anymore? They don’t. They don’t care.

There’s a stupid grin forming on their face, but they won’t stop it. Maybe Natasha was right. That nap made them feel so much better.

It’s like they’re taller and stronger than when they laid down earlier. It’s good. They’re going to make a point of listening to Natasha more often.

They look down at themselves, admiring the bulge in their boxers. _Hell yeah_. They’re awesome. Kind of. Not really. More dorky than awesome but still. They have a dick.

 _They have a diiick, they have a diiiiick._ They’re singing in their head, proud and a little giddy. It’s stupid and juvenile but they can’t help it. A happy moment like this needs to be cherished.

They reach down and prod the dick through their boxers. It’s one of those expensive ones, they really splurged on it. It’s supposed to feel like the real deal, not that they’d know though, but it’s pretty soft and it doesn’t look like… well, plastic. And it has this hard core, so when they tug on it, it actually does look like it gets hard. That’s the thing that really convinced them.

Not that they’ve used it for _that_ … not with another person at least.

 They’re not really paying attention to anything, they’re just letting themselves have this moment of fun and before they know it, they’re hard and considering reaching for the lube. You know, just to calm the last of their nerves.

“Martin, are you still… _Oh my god_!” Natasha turns around as quickly as she entered and Martin is quick to shove themselves back into their boxers, “I am _so_ sorry!”

They turn as red as Natasha’s hair, “No I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s your house.” Natasha says, her back still to them, “I just… uh… I reheated the pasta, I was wondering if you’re hungry?”

“Uhm, yeah, sure.” They’ve never been this embarrassed before in their life, “You… uh… you can turn around now.”

Natasha does, maybe a little more slowly than she normally would, and they notice that she is just as red and embarrassed as they are.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” They whisper, feeling like one of those gross men that send unwanted dickpics to every woman that even breaths in their direction.

“It’s okay sweetie.” Natasha shrugs and though she still seems a little flustered, they feel like it really is okay, “I’m definitely knocking next time though.”

They have to chuckle at that, “Yes please.”

“You seem a lot… happier than earlier.” Natasha notes softly.

“Yeah, I am. You were right, thanks.”

Natasha lights up, “What was that? I don’t think I’ve heard you?”

They roll their eyes at the teasing, “You were right Natasha.”

“Damn right I am.” If they’re honest, Natasha looks a lot better too, relieved even, “Come on, that pasta isn’t going to stay hot forever.”

They grab the offered hand, letting the redhead pull them to their feet again. They consider putting their jeans back on, but this time Natasha _really_ has seen it all, so boxers it is.

“Uh Martin, sweetie.” Natasha hesitates, “You’re… how do I say this… you’re _crooked_.”

“Huh?”

Natasha’s hands motion vaguely over their body with a huff, but they have no idea what she’s trying to say.

“Ugh.” Natasha sighs and Martin almost screams when she reaches down and grabs their… their… _you-know-what_.

“You’re crooked.” She repeats again, readjusting them gently.

“Uhm… thanks… I think.”

They’re swallowing heavily, never before has anyone touched them _there_. It’s weird. And for the first time, they’re actually kind of glad that it isn’t real, because Natasha… she’s touching it!

“You’re welcome.” Natasha is actually kind of laughing and it makes them feel a little less awkward.

“Uhm… Nat… could you maybe stop touching…” They point down to where Natasha is still holding their junk.

“Oh yeah sorry.” Natasha pulls her hand back hastily, “I…”

“Food.” They say, “Let’s eat.”

“Food.” Natasha agrees quickly, reaching out and grabbing their hand, “Come on.”

“You seem to have a thing for bossing me around.” They note with a smile.

Natasha turns back to her with a smirk, “You have no idea handsome.”

They blush at her teasing tone, even though they know they brought it on themselves. And yeah, they’d love to know just how bossy Natasha can get.

Not that they’ll ever know. But still. They can always fantasize.

“Alright, pasta!” Natasha gets back on track with a chuckle, and Martin let’s her drag them to the kitchen. They kind of like the way Natasha holds her hand, and they can only hope the redhead doesn’t feel how sweaty their hands are.

They sit down and watch Natasha going through their kitchen with a confidence of someone who’s been living there for years. It’s a pretty good view. Especially when she has to reach up to get a plate from the cupboard and her shirts goes up a little and Martin is floored by the tiniest sliver of pale skin.

They’ve never been religious but _dear lord she’s beautiful._

“Are you staring at my ass?” Natasha suddenly questions and Martin wonders why their body ever bothers to stop blushing, it would be less time consuming to just stay permanently red around Natasha.

“Nooooo…” It’s entirely unconvincing, “I…” They’re trying to find any reason to explain their wandering eyes, but they know it’s futile. Damn Natasha and her spy-senses.

“I guess it’s only fair.” Natasha smirks, “I did kinda feel you up before.”

“I don’t mind.” They say too quickly. Foot in mouth much? “I mean… I appreciated it? I mean… you weren’t _feeling_ feeling, it was just… I… I’m going to shut up.”

Natasha laughs loudly, “Yeah honey, I think that’s a good idea.”

They chuckle, embarrassed at how flustered Natasha can make them.

“Cutie.” She mutters fondly, reaching out and ruffling their hair, “Dinner’s ready.”

“Smells great.”

Natasha shrugs, “You made it.”

She puts a plate in front of them, but instead of sitting down next to them, she plants herself on their lap.

“Natasha!”

“What?”

“I’m not wearing pants!”

The redhead chuckles and they can feel her body move on top of them, she’s that close, “Really? It’s a bit late to get prudish Martin, I’ve seen _everything_. And touched it too.”

“Natasha! Don’t say it like that!”

“Like what? I didn’t say anything!” Natasha’s amusement is infectious and Martin finds themselves chuckling along with her.

“Come on, eat. Or it’ll get cold again.” Natasha waves a fork in front of her face and they dutifully open their mouth, accepting the pasta.

“I can feed myself Nat.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Natasha chides with twinkling eyes, taking a bite herself.

Martin rolls their eyes, “You’re having way too much fun.”

“I always have too much fun with you handsome.”

They sigh, unconsciously leaning into Natasha a little more. They don’t think they’ll ever stop being amazed at how soft she is.

“Hold me.”

“Huh?”

“You shuffle too much.”Natasha whispers, “I feel like I’m going to fall off any second. Hold me.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” They’re fumbling. Wrapping their arms around her is easy, but where the hell are they supposed to put their hands?

Natasha thankfully doesn’t say anything, she just puts her small hands on their and guide them to her stomach.

“This is nice.” Natasha hums, holding out some more pasta for them, “I’m glad you feel better.”

“Hmmm, me too.” They nod, “Tomorrow is going to suck.”

“Why?”

They bite their lips in annoyance, “SHIELD.”

“On Sunday?”

“Perks of being the Commander.” They sigh, sagging further against Natasha without really noticing they’re doing it.

“You’ll be okay baby.” Natasha twists so she can kiss the top of their head.

“Naaaaaat.”

“What?”

“I told you no kisses.” They’re grumbling like a child, but it doesn’t really matter. Natasha must be a freaking idiot if she hasn’t figured them out by now.

And she does grin at them, warm and inviting, “But what if I like kissing you.”

“Don’t play games with me Natasha.” They can feel themselves getting worked up again, “Not now.”

“I’m not playing games.”

“Nat…”

“I don’t break into everyone’s apartment.” Natasha admits quietly, “I… I just don’t.”

“But I’m… I’m…” _Wrong._

“You’re you. But I’ll need to get used to that.” Natasha mutters and she’s not looking at them, “I… I don’t mind. I just need to get used to you. Because… I thought I figured you out, and now I’m not sure anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No I don’t mean it in a bad way.” The redhead puts her chin on their head, and they couldn’t possibly get any closer. But they have no idea what the hell is happening.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way at all.” She repeats, “I just… I feel like I need to get to know you again. And I probably should do some research, right?”

“Research?”

Natasha nods, “Yeah, I want… I didn’t really help you a lot… I think I just made it worse. I want to know what to do. For next time.”

 “Natasha…”

They don’t realize it, but Natasha’s hand brushes over their cheek, wiping their tears “Don’t cry baby. I don’t want to make you sad.”

They shake their head. She doesn’t make them sad, how can she? She’s so freaking perfect. But she keeps touching them and they can’t find a single word in their brain.

“I want to kiss you…”

“Don’t.”

Natasha closes her eyes, “But… I… I adore you…”

A strangled sob leaves their lips, but there’s a sick feeling in their stomach too, “You don’t Nat… You like… _Maria_ … and I can’t be her all the time… I try, I try so fucking hard but I can’t.”

“No baby, that’s okay. You don’t… I don’t need _her_. I need you.” It’s Natasha who seems so desperate now, and all they want to do is give in. They just want her.

Her hands are brushing through their hair and _god_ they want to give in.

“Natasha.” They don’t know what they want to say, they just whisper her name over and over again like it’s a prayer.

“You love _her_.”

“I love you.” Natasha protests between her own tears.

“I love you too.” It’s so selfish to say it but they can _feel_ the way Natasha’s breath hitches and her lips touch the top of their head again and who can blame them? Who can blame them for wanting this amazing woman so much.

“Please Martin, please.”

“No.” They have to stay strong, they can’t do this, “Not yet. You… you don’t…”

“I know.” Natasha is close to sobbing now, and when she pulls away and looks them dead in the eye, they want to sob too. She looks so sad, “I know, okay? Just… one kiss. Please?”

 _Oh_ _no_.

They’ve thought about what it would be like to be with Natasha, of course they have. They’ve dreamt about holding her, about seeing her naked, making love to her. But, uh, a kiss? Noooooooo not that.

“I…” They’re blushing with tears still in their eyes, “I… uh… _Jesus Nat_.”

“You don’t have to baby. I… I’ll wait.” Natasha mumbles, she means it, but she’s clearly dejected, “I am going to wait though. As long as it takes.”

“I… I want to…” They’re ears are going to burn straight off their head if they keep blushing like this, “But… I’m not really… pfffff!”

“Martin?”

They bite the bullet, but they close their eyes because they don’t want Natasha to laugh, “I haven’t… I haven’t kissed anyone. Not since I was 14. And that was bad. Saliva everywhere. It was gross.”

“Oh honey…” Natasha’s voice is filled with amusement, “Sweetie, don’t be embarrassed. That’s fine. It’s actually kinda cute.”

“It’s pathetic.” They grumble. But they’ve just never been comfortable enough with another person, or with their own body. It just never happened.

“No it’s cute.” Natasha says firmly, “And you know, I kinda like it… you… when you kiss me… it’ll be more special… I’ll be special.”

“You already are.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sunday comes too soon.

Natasha left the night before, with a kiss to a blushing cheek and the promise she’d be back next weekend and “don’t you go giving my kiss away to someone else, okay?”.

It’s Maria today. It’s odd and uncomfortable, but the weekend, no matter how short it was, it left them feeling recharged. They could do this. They could be her again.

So they do. They pick out her clothes, a pantsuit because a skirt would be way too uncomfortable, and some very generic loafers. Not girlish, but definitely not what they prefer.

The pants cling to their hips, and they hate the way the shirt and blazer taper in, showing off curves they don’t want to show. But that’s just the way women’s clothes are.

A glance in the mirror and just like that, they becomes she. But it’s okay. Maria Hill is strong. She can do this. And she’s been doing this for as long as she can remember. She can do it.

Martin is the cry baby, not Maria. Maria is the Hardass, the Commander, the agent. She can do this.

It’s a stupid mental peptalk, but it works most days. So Maria grabs her gun and her badge and everything else she needs to get through the day and leaves the comfort of her home.

_She can do this._

But four hours into her Sunday, and she’s not so sure anymore. She’s been pouring over performance reviews for far too long, not even her cups of coffee can keep her feeling alive anymore. The little letters are dancing in front of her eyes, and _who the fuck decided that that font was a good idea?_

She pushes the stack of papers away from her with a grunt. A headache on a Sunday. It should be illegal.

“I need more coffee.” She mutters to herself, “And some air.”

She’s still shrugging into her blazer when there’s a knock on her door, “Enter.” _There goes that coffee._

But it’s Natasha who strolls in with a smirk, “Told you I’d knock next time.”

“You don’t have to work today Natasha.” Maria raises an eyebrow, trying not to blush at the redhead’s teasing, “And that coffee better be for me.”

“It is.” Natasha puts it on her desk, “And someone called me in for a quick op. Nothing major.”

“You’re a saint.” Maria quickly takes a sip of the slightly too hot coffee, and the burn in the back of her throat always sooths her, “What mission though? We don’t call you in for minor things.”

“Well aren’t you observant?” Natasha teases, “I volunteered.”

“Why?”

“Because…” She has that look on her face and Maria is already mentally bracing herself for the flirting coming her way, “There’s someone special I wanted to spend my Sunday with, but they have to work. There was no point in just sitting at home and missing them.”

Maria swallows heavily at her confession. How they got here, she’ll never know. But she sure as hell isn’t complaining.

“And now I can’t help but wonder if they miss me too.” Natasha ends with a grin, but Maria can see the honest question in her eyes.

“I… I’m sure they do.”

“Yeah I think so too.” Natasha smiles, “Anyway, enjoy your coffee _Commander_. I’ve got to go.”

“Be careful.”

Natasha’s eyes twinkle and she leans in so close Maria can almost feel her breath, “Sir, yes, sir.”

She shuts the door behind her and Maria falls back into her chair with a heavy sigh, “ _Jesus fucking fuck Natasha.”_

Natasha is an angel, Maria decides. She starts bringing them coffee every day, sometimes multiple times a day because god knows one cup isn’t going to keep the deputy director awake.

And she flirts. Maria always knew that Natasha could flirt but holy shit the woman can _flirt._ Never once has she left her office without making Maria blush. It’s embarrassing and so much fun.

But the best thing? The redhead has found a way to completely avoid her name. She’s _Commander_ or _boss_ or Maria’s personal favorite _sir_. Natasha only uses that one when they’re alone though, thank god.

It’s amazing. And Maria can’t wait until the weekend because she knows Natasha will be there. And she’s never wanted anything, anyone more than she wants her.

So when she’s making her way back from a particularly grueling meeting, _But what bathrooms should aliens use?_ , and she hears Clint Barton’s angry hiss, she stops and listens.

“What has gotten into you? It’s like you’re not here at all?” She can hear him say and for a spy he should really learn to whisper, “And don’t you think that I haven’t seen you sneaking into Maria’s office multiple times!”

“So what if I have?” Natasha grumbles back, “It’s a free country, isn’t it?”

“What are you up to Nat?” Barton questions fiercely, “Are you in trouble? Is someone holding something over you? We can help Natasha.”

“Nothing is wrong Clint, I’m just bringing Commander Hill coffee, that’s it.” Maria can practically hear Natasha’s shrug, “It’s a busy week, don’t want the big boss falling asleep.”

Maria hears Clint sigh, “Natasha I’m really worrying here. You keep sneaking into her office, you can’t even bring yourself to say her name. What is happening?”

“It’s none of your business Clint!”

“It is my business if you’re screwing over SHIELD!”

Maria needs to intervene, so she coughs, getting both of their attention, “Agent Barton, I can assure you that agent Romanoff isn’t doing any screwing at the moment.”

Natasha blushes wildly at the innuendo and Maria feels oddly proud of herself.

“Commander Hill, she’s been in your office five times already today! Something is happening!” Barton protests and Maria mentally gives him kudos for being so observant.

“I know Barton. I was there.”

“You were… there? But… why would you need her so often?” Barton fumbles, “I mean, I never need to go to your office unless we’re going on a mission… are you going on a mission?”

Natasha is having trouble keeping a straight face at his confusion, “No, no mission.”

“But then… Why?”

Natasha turns to Maria, “He’ll figure it out eventually.”

“I hope so, he’s one of my best agents.” Maria can’t help but grin, “See you on Friday?”

“Hmm, I could come over tonight maybe?” Natasha offers with a little hesitation, “I mean, I don’t have anything to do and…”

“I can’t.” Maria almost groans, “I have a late meeting.”

“Oh? I could just head over to yours? I’ll have dinner ready when you’re home?”

Maria shakes her head, “No, I’m going to be stuck here all night. I have to call Brussels.”

“Time difference sucks.” Natasha agrees, “You have to deal with their prime minister?”

“Yup.”

“Poor you.” Natasha says with a little grin, “His accent is so bad.”

“I know! Why can’t he just hire an interpreter?” Maria whines, “It’s so bad!”

“You… what…” Barton fumbles next to them, pointing from one to the other, “You… You… You’re... you know… _fraternizing?_ ”

Maria almost laughs and Natasha definitely chuckles, “No we’re not… not yet anyway.”

Maria’s face heats up under Natasha’s stare, “Nat!”

“Oh I did not want to know, I did not want to know!” Clint waves his hands around like someone just fed him a habanero pepper, “Ew ew ew!”

“Don’t be a child Barton.” Natasha swats at him, “It’s not against the rules, I checked.”

“You did?” Maria is touched, even though she already knew it wasn’t against the rules, “That’s so sweet.”

“Ugh you two are gross!”

“We’re not, now shut up.” Natasha swats him again, “So no for tonight, but I’ll bring you coffee in the morning?”

“I look forward to it.” Maria smiles, “And… I look forward to Friday.”

“Me too Commander.” Natasha winks and Clint starts making barfing noises.

“Got to go.” Maria turns on her heel, “Go do something useful agents.”

 “See you later honey!” Natasha yells after her, but Maria knows it was more a joke to annoy Barton. It still makes her insides tingle though. _She was so screwed_.

She can’t wait for it to be Friday.

She can’t wait to be with Natasha again.

She can’t wait to get out of these clothes and to breathe again.

It’s not that bad this time, it’s manageable. But still, everyone wants something to look forward to. For Maria it’s just a little more complicated.

There’s paperwork to keep her distracted though, paperwork and rookies. It’s fun. Maria loves her job, loves the stress and the pressure. She has to, if she didn’t like the responsibility she wouldn’t last here longer than a week.

She likes worrying about whether or not there will be a world to protect tomorrow. It’s nice to worry about something bigger than her, it makes her forget her own troubles.

The afternoon turns to night and while the building isn’t empty, it’s certainly a lot quieter than normal. Maria has read her notes for her meeting multiple times now, and she can only hope the Belgians are prepared. Usually they’re not.

 _Ugh_.

Her phone rings, five minutes early and Maria is already impressed.

“Commander Hill?” she answers efficiently, hoping to set the tone for the rest of the meeting.

“Ah miss Ill! Ow er yuw?”

Maria sighs. It’s going to be a looooong evening.

She’s trying her best to keep up and decipher what the prime minister is saying, but after 20 minutes she kind of wants to strangle the man through the phone. And she can’t for the life of her figure out how such an idiot got elected.

Her homicidal tendencies are interrupted by a knock on the door. She glances at the clock, it’s almost 3 in the morning. Who could possibly still need her?

Maria mutes her own microphone so they prime minister won’t listen in.

“Enter.”

“Hey sweetie.” Natasha walks in holding two steaming mugs, “I brought you cocoa.”

“Nat, you should be asleep.” Maria says but she’s never been happier to see her.

“Got bored, I thought I might visit.” Natasha hands her a cup, holding the other close, “It’s a bit late for coffee. I hope this is good too.”

“It’s amazing.” Maria smiles at Natasha, wishing she could just get lost in her eyes, but the prime minister’s voice is still filling her office, “I have to get back to this…”

“I know.” Natasha whispers, “Is it a video call?”

“Nope.”

Natasha grins and grabs the second chair, pulling it up so she can sit with Maria, “Go ahead, I’ll be quiet.”

Maria turns the microphone back on, but she keeps her eyes on Natasha. The woman is nestling herself in the chair and she looks so adorable.

Natasha smiles at her blatant staring, mouthing “focus”.

Reluctantly, Maria turns her attention back on Idiot.

“You know,” Natasha whispers into her ear, entirely too husky for Maria too handle, “The Belgians, they call him Mister Potato Head.”

Maria can barely contain the snort of laughter bubbling up and she swats at the redhead, “You were going to be quiet!”

“Just a fun fact.” Natasha winks, leaning back into her chair.

Natasha does turn quiet though, so quiet that Maria forgets she’s there. She’s just too focused on her meeting.

So when there’s suddenly two hands on her shoulders, Maria almost screams. Almost. But Natasha definitely felt her tense under her.

“Sorry, I just thought you looked so stressed,” She whispers, squeezing Maria’s shoulders, “Massage?”

“Uhm… sure.”

She regrets it as soon as Natasha’s hands start working her tense shoulders, she should have known Natasha would be good at this. The woman is good at freaking everything.

And now Maria has to focus on the Potato Head with the horrid French accent while Natasha is touching her. All she wants to do is lean back and close her eyes and just let Natasha do whatever she wants.

It takes all the effort in the world not to moan when Natasha presses down on a particularly sensitive spot.

“You like it?” Natasha husks into her ear and Maria nods. She so does like it, “You just wait until Friday then, _handsome._ ”

Maria whimpers a little, praying silently they didn’t hear her all the way in Belgium.

Natasha chuckles, kissing the back of Maria’s neck softly, “You’re so cute babe.”

“Nat…” Maria sighs, not sure if she wants to tell her off or ask her to never stop.

“Focus on your call, my love.” Natasha whisper, “It’s almost over.”

Maria’s ears burn at the terms of endearment that just float out of Natasha’s mouth. It’s so casual, like she’s done this her entire life, but at the same time it’s so amazing and special and it just makes her stomach twirl. In all the great ways.

Natasha keeps one hand on her thigh during the rest of the call. By the time Maria can finally hang up it’s almost 6.

“You okay?” Natasha asks after a particularly long sigh.

“Sleepy. But fine.”

“You want to go home?”

“No time, I have to work tomorrow. Well… today.” Maria sighs again.

“Come on then.” Natasha holds out her hand, “There’s bunks for the agents upstairs. We’ll take a nap.”

Maria blinks, “We?”

“I was up too, in case you didn’t notice.” Natasha jokes and Maria smiles. Because how can she not? Natasha is so sweet and funny and amazing and she takes the redhead’s hand and lets her guide her to the bunk.

They don’t speak, but they don’t need to. And honestly, Maria is too tired to hold a decent conversation.

“Here you go.” Natasha points to a bunk, “I’ll be over there, don’t want to… you know… make you uncomfortable.”

Maria smiles, “You don’t. You don’t make me uncomfortable. Never. I… I want you to stay… with me.”

“You sure?” Natasha bites her lip and it’s so cute, “It’s a small bunk. I know you’re not really… a touchy person.”

Maria takes her hands, “I am with you. Please?”

Natasha nods with a slight blush and Maria can’t get into the bunk fast enough. The idea of Natasha close to her is completely intoxicating. So when Natasha follows and molds her body around Maria’s, she forgets how to breath for just a second.

She wraps her arms around the redhead, eager but still a little hesitant on where to put her hands, and when Natasha rests her head on Maria’s shoulder, she can’t not kiss the top of her head.

“I’m so in love with you.” Natasha whispers so softly Maria isn’t sure she’s supposed to hear, “It’s ridiculous.”

“I… I feel the same.” Maria whispers back, tightening her arms around her, “Sorry for being so weird about it.”

“You’re not weird. You’re just… You’re a little reserved. It’s fine.”

“I…”

“I know who you are babe, I’ve seen every bit of you.” Natasha interrupts, “And I am so here for everything baby. I am.”

“You’re amazing.”

Natasha chuckles, “I know. Now sleep handsome, we don’t have much time.”

“I’m not handsome.”

“You always are to me.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say that I'm loving all the comments on this story :-) I'd just feel awkward responding to them, but I do read them, and I do love them :-) So thanks

Friday. It’s fucking Friday. And Maria is freaking out.

Five minutes before she was going to leave, she got a call. A mission somewhere in China has gone awry and suddenly she needs to call someone who can call another someone to try and get her agents out of jail.

It’s stressful and annoying on a normal day, but it’s not a normal day. It’s Friday. And Natasha is waiting for her.

She doesn’t like to keep Natasha waiting. Not when the woman has already been so patient and perfect.

Maria’s mind is consumed by the redhead and that weeklong promise of _Friday_. But now that it is Friday, she has no idea what to expect. Or what Natasha is expecting from her.

A talk probably. Some idea of what’s happening inside of Maria’s brain. But she’s not sure she can give Natasha that. Because she doesn’t have that answer, not even for herself.

Or maybe she wants that kiss they’ve been dancing around all week. Maria’s not sure how she feels about that. She wants to of course, but there’s that teenage fear of not being any good at it, combined with the knowledge that Natasha is probably the best kisser in the world. She’s nervous.

And then there’s that uncertainty of what comes after that kiss. Another kiss, sure. But then what? Sex? Maria’s not sure she can do that. Too much naked body, nowhere to hide, yeah, she doesn’t like that idea.

And after sex, what happens then? A relationship, hopefully. But what will she be? Natasha’s girlfriend? She can’t be that all the time. Boyfriend doesn’t fit either. And partner, Clint Barton is already her partner. It doesn’t make sense.

“You look like you’re worrying?” Natasha asks from the doorway.

“I thought you were going to knock?” Maria tries to deflect but that never works with Natasha.

The redhead walks up and wraps her arms around her, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just want to go home.”

Natasha hums in agreement, “Rumor has it you should get a call in five minutes. Our agents will be just fine.”

Maria narrows her eyes in suspicion, “What did you do?”

“Eh, someone owed me a favor.”

“Chinese government? Chinese government owed you a favor?” Maria can’t help the incredulous smile on her face, “Never mind, I don’t think I want to know.”

“No you don’t.” Natasha agrees with a grin and then Maria’s phone rings and she really is floored by the redhead.

There’s seemingly no limit to Natasha’s powers, and the agents will be taking the first flight home. And that without having to threaten anyone. It’s almost a miracle.

“Go on then, let’s go home babe.”

“Yeah, home.” Maria wants to, but at the same time she’s a little reluctant. All her worries and insecurities come bubbling up again and she doesn’t like the vulnerability.

“Home babe, not prison. You could maybe try to look happy about it?”

“No I’m happy… just a little nervous.”

Natasha sighs, “Look, I know we said Friday, like it’s a big thing. But it’s not, or it doesn’t have to be. If you don’t want to. I don’t… we’re not doing anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, per se.” Maria admits, “Just very, very nervous.”

“Me too.” Natasha whispers, “I… yeah, I’m nervous.”

Maria never thought she would see the day that Natasha would admit her nerves, but now she is and it’s so… so amazing.

“We can be nervous together.” She tries to joke, “Just… let’s go home, yeah? I… I want you with me.”

Natasha drives. Apparently it helps her calm her nerves, and Maria hates driving when she feels this restless. It’s a win-win situation. And she likes watching Natasha drive. It’s a nice distraction from thinking about what might happen later tonight.

“You’re staring.”

“Can’t help it. You’re pretty.”

Natasha blushes and Maria feels so proud and a little confident, she dares to reach over and put her hand on Natasha’s knee.

She sends her a wide grin, “Almost there.”

Maria doesn’t answer, she just relishes in the contact and the nervous swirl in her stomach. She feels like a teenager again, on her way to her very first date.

“Mar… babe?” Natasha swallows her name before she can completely say it, “Sorry, it tends to happen. Habit.”

“It’s fine.” And it really is. Honestly, she expected this to happen earlier, but Natasha is just trying so hard, how can she get mad at her?

“You can say my name. Just not when I’m… not… you know.”

Natasha shrugs, “I don’t know, it’s weird? Because if you don’t feel like Maria, even when you are her, it just feels mean calling you that name? Because I can avoid it?”

“I don’t know. Everyone else calls me Maria, you can too. I won’t cry or something.”

“I just…” Natasha seems at a loss for words, waving one hand around as if she can grasp the words out of the air, “You… I just don’t want to hurt you. Even if you’re used to it, I still don’t want to hurt you.”

Maria feels herself getting a little teary, she doesn’t know how to respond to that. Natasha is so considerate. All the time. But what can she offer the redhead in return? Insecurities and identity crises?

“We’re here.”

Maria hates the fear she feels. She hates how she can go from happy and flirty and kind of stupidly in love, to absolutely terrified and insecure in just a few seconds. Why can’t she just adult the hell up?

She doesn’t hold Natasha’s hand on the way up to her apartment, she’s too scared that the redhead will notice how shaky her hands are. Like, so shaky that when it comes down to it, she has trouble fitting the key in the hole.

Natasha has to notice, she’s too good a spy not to notice, but thankfully she doesn’t say anything.

She just smiles at her, “I’ll start dinner? While you go freshen up?”

“I…” Maria doesn’t really know what Natasha means by go freshen up.

“You’re home babe, you can be whoever you want to be. I don’t care.” Natasha says as if she can read her mind.

“I… I… okay, I need to know something.” Maria feels so awkward she can barely even look at Natasha, “Are you… are we going to… you know… _kiss_?”

“When you’re ready, yeah.” Natasha shrugs, a hopeful smile playing on her lips, “I mean, I hope so. If you want to.”

“No, no, I want to… I just, it’s, it’s not just identity… it’s also confidence… I’m more confident when I…”

There’s awkward waving of her hands and more than a little cringing, and Maria can only hope that Natasha understood because there’s no way she can explain things better without crying.

Natasha nods like she understands, and Maria can’t be more relieved.

“Well… I’m not going to _plan_ our first kiss, but I mean…”Natasha sends her a crooked smile, “I can tell you if you’re going to be this cute all night, it’s going to be hard to keep my hands off you.”

Maria blushes wildly at the look in Natasha’s eyes. Like she’s actually having trouble not touching her. It’s… It’s very distracting.

“I… uh…”

“Whatever you need babe, whatever makes you comfortable.”

She can’t resist rushing forward and grabbing Natasha in a tight hug. It’s not really like her to search that contact, but Natasha is being too amazing. And she doesn’t have any words to say exactly how amazing she is, so she just hugs her.

Natasha chuckles happily, clinging to Maria just as tightly, “Go on then honey, dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Maria turns on her heel, heading to her bedroom.

“Hey, hang on!” Natasha calls her back, and this must be it. This must be the moment that Natasha realizes that she can’t do this, that Maria is just too broken to deal with, “You like green beans, right?”

“Uh… yeah… yeah I do.”

Natasha smiles that rare dopey smile and disappears again, like nothing happened. And it nothing did happen, only in Maria’s mind. But apparently, that’s not always the most trustworthy place to be in. Because Natasha isn’t leaving, she isn’t asking them to pick who to be. It’s a little unsettling, but in a nice way?

Maria is so used to trying to force herself to pick who she wants to be, what she wants to be. But Natasha seemingly really doesn’t care.

She goes to her bedroom, staring at the wall and thinking never does anyone any good. But now she has to make the decision. Who does she want to be tonight? With Natasha here?

Because it seems like such a big deal, a big decision. If she… _changes_ … Natasha might start to think that this is a weekly thing when it’s not. It’s a deny-it-until-you-feel-like-you’re-going-to-explode thing. But she also doesn’t want Natasha to think that she only does it when she’s sad, because it’s not true either.

Sometimes she’s just horny, or she just… she just really wants to.

But what does she really want tonight? Besides Natasha, of course.

She wants to breath. And she wants to laugh, loudly. She wants to nestle into the couch and feel the softness of the pillows and smell the laundry detergent and just be.

But _Maria_ can’t do that. Maria worries too much about too many things. Maria scowls and glares just in hopes that nobody will look at her for too long, because she’s scared they’ll just _see_ how wrong she is. How she’s not really Maria at all.

Doesn’t mean she’s Martin either. Martin is almost just as much a mask as Maria is. Martin is just… more free. It’s liberating to be Martin, Martin isn’t watched by everyone. Martin can do whatever they want.

And just like that, she can’t be Maria anymore.

They peel their clothes off at breakneck speed, a little desperate to shed that skin that doesn’t really belong anymore.

When the bra falls to the floor, it feel like a weight is lifted off their shoulders. It’s stupid, but it’s true.

The binder, the thing that people warn about because it can be so tight that it can cut off your breathing, that binder makes it actually easier to breath. And they could stare at their profile like this for days without getting bored.

The packer is always the most fun part and for the slightest second they wish they could just walk around like this, but Natasha’s in their home. She deserves a little effort.

They pick the fanciest jeans they own, but giving that they’re jeans, they aren’t _that_ fancy. And the shirt that Natasha liked so much last week, they have to wear that. If only because they remember how she put her hands on their chest and smiled and she was so close and so pretty and her hair did that perfect wavy thing and she smelled so nice and… _god._

They glance quickly into the mirror. They’ve never been very vain, and mirrors tend to be a little confronting anyways, but they’ve got to make sure they look decent enough for Natasha.

Are they ready?

No.

But they can’t hide from Natasha Romanoff. And they don’t want to either, not at all.

They’re just scared of making things weird. Because the way things are right now, with the little touches and the stupid smiles, it’s pretty amazing. It’s more than they ever dreamt they’d have.

They just don’t want to ruin it.

“Babe? Baby! Can you come watch the chicken?” Natasha yells from the kitchen, “I don’t want to burn it but I really _really_ need to pee!”

“I’ll be right there!” They chuckle, Natasha just has a way to make them smile even when she doesn’t know they need it.

The sight of Natasha hopping around their kitchen with a spatula and an awkward grimace, isn’t something they’re going to forget any time soon. It’s hilarious. And it stays hilarious even when Natasha threatens them with said spatula.

“You stop laughing!” But she has a smile on her face herself, “And get out of my way, I really have to pee.”

Martin dutifully watches the chicken while Natasha’s gone, but maybe they should’ve told her that they don’t ever cook. All they can make is pasta, with sauce out of a jar. They have no idea when to turn this chicken over. Or if they even need to do it at all.

They’re biting their lip with a little glare, prodding at the chicken every so often.

“Is it supposed to be pink? I don’t think so?” They’re talking to themselves, a habit from living alone, “Or is it one of those rare, medium, well done things?”

“Are you talking to the chicken?” Natasha stands behind them with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“No, I’m talking to myself… You think this is good?”

Natasha comes over to inspect, “Uh honey… that’s raw. Like, so raw you might be able to still revive it. Did you… You didn’t turn the stove on baby.”

Martin blushes like crazy, “I… I thought you turned it on!”

Natasha laughs, “How do you survive? If you can’t even cook chicken?”

“SHIELD canteen has got me covered.”

“Now I really wonder how you survive.” Natasha smirks, “That’s the worst food in the world.”

“It’s not!”

“It is babe, Russian food is fine dining compared to that slob.”

Martin pouts, “I think it’s pretty good.”

“I think you have no taste buds.” Natasha must really love teasing them, “Now watch and learn from the master.”

“Who made you the master?” They wonder but they hop onto the counter to watch the redhead work anyway. There’s just something magical about the way she moves.

“I’ll have you know that I have successfully followed several cooking classes.”

“Cooking classes? You mean there’s something you aren’t naturally good at?” They mock with a smile, “Miss Natasha Romanoff isn’t perfect? I’m shocked!”

“Oh aren’t you funny.” Natasha rolls her eyes, “And I could cook perfectly fine before those classes, I just wasn’t prepared for the American habit of putting syrup and bacon on _everything_.”

They chuckle loudly at the horrified expression on Natasha’s face.

“No, be serious babe! What’s up with that? Pancakes, bacon and syrup? Why would anyone do that?!” Natasha’s face is just golden, waving the spatula around as she rants, “And don’t even get me started on waffles with chicken!”

“Hey, hey, don’t kill me! I’m Canadian!” Martin has tears in their eyes from laughing.

The spatula comes to a halt, “I know! I have one word for you! Poutine!”

“Oh don’t go bashing my love!” They have to defend their heritage, even if they kind of agree that it’s a sticky, messy heritage, “Poutine is sacred Romanoff!”

“It’s disgusting is what it is! Fries, cheese and gravy! I’m surprised you’re not pouring syrup on that either!”

“Well, actually, in Ottawa…”

“Don’t you dare finish that.” Natasha has trouble talking through her chuckles, “I really don’t want to know.”

They’re laughing easily and watching Natasha cook must be one of the best things ever. Well, watching Natasha doing just about anything is pretty amazing.

“Dinner is ready babe, can you set the table for me?”

“Sure…” They pause, a little uncertain, “ _Honey._ ”

They cringe at how uncertain they sound but Natasha smiles widely.

“Stop being so cute or we’re not having dinner.”

“Why not?” They frown.

“Because I’ll jump you before we can eat.”

They swallow heavily, the thought of Natasha actually jumping them, wrapping her legs around them, letting them carry her to the bedroom to…

“You still there cutie?” Natasha smiles like she knows exactly what they’re thinking.

“Uhu.”

“Set the table baby, maybe we can finish that thought later.” Natasha’s wink is entirely indecent and it makes their face heat up. Though it’s terrifying to think about what later might entail, Martin doesn’t want anything but _later._

Dinner is unsurprisingly perfect, just like Natasha.

“What… uh… what do you want to do tonight?”

“A movie? Anything that can make you relax a bit Martin.”

“I’m relaxed.” They lie through their teeth, Natasha sees right through them without a doubt, but they’re trying anyway. They don’t want to seem like a scared teenager waiting to be kissed by the pretty girl.

Natasha doesn’t say anything, she just raises an eyebrow, all her doubt flowing out with that one expression.

“I’m a little nervous.”

“We’re not doing anything you don’t want to Martin.” Natasha’s voice is soft and husky, “I’m not… We’re waiting until you’re ready. I’m just happy I can be here and… You’re already sharing so much with me… It’s really okay.”

They shrug, insecure as always, but Natasha’s there and she’s being so sweet, “I… I want to Natasha. It’s… I feel so stupid because this is all I wanted for a really long time, and now that I can have it…” They sigh, “I’m scared of what’s happening. I’m scared of how you see me… and I don’t know who you think I am… and that’s scary.”

“Well… who do you want to be?” Natasha asks, “I know I want… I want to love you, I mean, I already do, but… I want you to be my… well… mine.”

“You want me to be your… what? What do you want me to be?”

Natasha has a slight smile on her face, “Well, I did some research on that… I think I like lover? I mean, there’s a ton of terms, so you pick in the end, but I don’t know, that one is the least… odd? I mean the others aren’t odd, but they’re very obviously… _different?_ ” She shrugs, “I think I’m explaining myself wrong, but you get what I mean? I don’t think you’re different, not at all. I just thought you’d like something that doesn’t stand out?”

“You really did research on that? You… you thought about that?”

“Of course I did.”

Natasha smiles so softly and honestly, they don’t know what to think. Every insecurity they have, Natasha thought of it and she just solves it like it’s easy. Like they haven’t spend _years_ worrying about it.

Not so much about the term, they know which ones they like, but they always worried about finding someone who would actually use them.

“Martin, I’m not going to say I understand, because I don’t. I don’t feel it, I don’t know what it’s like. But I can read about it.” Natasha says, “I know it’s not the same, because it’s all very personal, but I can try my best. For you.”

“I wish it didn’t take so much effort to love me.”

“It doesn’t take any effort to love you.” Natasha grabs their hand, “No effort at all. And seriously, if reading two Wikipedia pages is what it takes to make you comfortable, it’s perfectly fine with me.”

“I’m…”

“You’re perfect just the way you are.” Natasha always knows what to say, “And I’m in love with you. Every bit of you. No matter what you think, because Martin, it’s not hard to love you. It’s not.”

“I… I love you.”

Natasha smiles, that one smile that she seems to keep especially for them. They think at least, they know she doesn’t smile at Clint like that, and Clint is her everything. So that smile means something, right?

Never mind the fact she actually said that she loves them. Again. Because that seems to be a thing they do now, every once in a while. Not constantly, but when they’re alone and they have a little moment… it seems to just happen.

They like it.

“Movie and snuggles?” Natasha suggests, “I’ll do the dishes later.”

“You cooked, don’t worry about it. I’ll just do the dishes tomorrow.” They wave her off, “But yes to the movie, maybe to the snuggles.”

“Oh…” Natasha looks down, like they just told her to go home and leave them alone. And that’s so not what they want.

“I mean, I want to but I don’t want you to…” They shrug, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, but I also don’t want you to pity me? I feel… sometimes I feel like you’re babying me, like I’m fragile. I’m not fragile. I can take it. You don’t have to touch me, if you don’t want to. I know I’m wrong.”

Natasha looks a bit offended and when she stands up they know she’s going to leave. She won’t stay with them. Who would?

But instead she pulls them up and out of their chair, and she hugs them, so tight that it’s a little uncomfortable.

“Nat?”

“I love you. And I love touching you. I loved touching you yesterday, I love doing it now and I’ll love it tomorrow.” Natasha is almost grumpy as she tells them, “And if you think that I would do this for anyone, then I’m going to be very upset with you Martin.”

“But you still feel sorry for me, right?” They challenge, “It’s why you’re going so slow with me, right? You’re scared that I’m going to break down again.”

“I am scared that I’m going to do something to hurt you.” She admits, her voice a lot softer than before, but her hug still tight, “But I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m slow with you, because I want to do this on your terms, and at your pace. Because if we were doing things at my pace, I’d be naked and you’d be freaking out, okay? That’s why we’re going slow. Because you are not ready yet.”

“I… I’m ready for some of the stuff.” They mumble into her shoulder, a little embarrassed.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there Martin.” Natasha kisses their cheek and it feels like they’re floating, “Movie and snuggles?”

“Yeah, movie and snuggles.”

They let Natasha guide them, she’s good at that. And she always seems to just know what they need, they tell her how amazing she is, and she blushes a little. It’s nice to make her blush, it’s nice they’re not the only one constantly blushing.

Natasha pushes them down on the couch and slides down beside them, resting heavily against their side.

“Martin? You can touch me babe, I like it when you hold me.”

They’re a little hesitant to wrap their arms around her, not always so sure about where they can put their hands, so they just settle for her shoulder.

“You’re cute.” Natasha smiles, kissing their cheek again.

“I like that… when you… kiss me… I like that.”

“I hope so.”

Natasha’s all flirty touches and smiles and they can barely focus on the TV because she’s just so there. And it’s all kinds of wonderful.

“Do that again?” They ask, they’re not feeling particularly brave but the butterflies are almost setting their stomach on fire and their heart is pounding so fast they fear it’ll never return to its normal rhythm again, they have to do something, “Kiss me again.”

Natasha looks at them, carefully, and then leans in, slowly and softly kissing their cheek again.

They’re scared and nervous when they turn their head, their lips barely brushing Natasha’s. It’s barely a decent touch, but it’s there and Martin feels like they might puke from excitement.

Natasha is patient, but she’s not a nun nor a saint, and she puts the slightest more pressure on their lips, bringing them a little closer, kissing them a little firmer.

“Jesus fuck.” She’s kissing them, and their mind is reeling. They’re kissing Natasha freaking Romanoff. The most beautiful woman they’ve ever laid eyes on. The kindest person in the world. But also one of the only people who can probably kill a man with just her pinky finger.

“You okay?” Natasha pulls back just the slightest, “Too much?”

“Not enough.”

She leans in again with a grin, and this time they meet her halfway, capturing her lips in another soft peck. Again and again. Just the softest of kisses, interfered with wide smiles and slight chuckles of jittery happiness.

“I want…” Natasha whispers between kisses, “I want a little more? Okay?”

They nod, a little breathless and completely overwhelmed, but it’s good and it’s okay, because Natasha is there. And they trust her.

She moves like a flow of water, quick and almost invisible, but suddenly she’s there straddling their lap and her arms wrapping around their neck, “This okay, handsome?”

“I… yeah…” They’re nodding erratically, “This is… good… nice… Where, uh, where do I... put my hands?”

Natasha grins, “Wherever you want lover.”

The permission makes them feel a little giddy but they’re still shy and awkward, so they put their hands on her waist. Right on that softest part, where waist turns to hips, that’s probably their favorite part about her. It’s soft and curvy and just so goddamn perfect.

“You’re okay?” Natasha checks again and it’s so adorable.

They peck her soft lips, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt better.”

Her grin is wide and she chases their lips when they pull away a little. This kiss is different, it’s firmer, a bit rough even. Natasha starts moving her lips against their own, capturing their bottom lip and suckling softly.

They barely hear themselves whimper pathetically into her mouth, their hands squeezing her waist tighter and tighter. All their focus is on Natasha’s lips, gliding against their own.

They try to keep with her, pulling her closer and closer until their hands are firmly on Natasha’s back and she’s completely pressed against their chest. They moan when she nibbles, they gasp when she bites. They’ve never felt so alive before.

And then Natasha’s tongue glides along their lip, probing, seeking permission. And who could ever deny that gorgeous redhead? They’re putty in her hands without her touch, they don’t stand a chance when she’s on top of them like this.

They’re making out. Like, actually completely making out. And it’s… wonderful. She tastes like… like rainbows, and unicorns and magic. This is magic.

Their tongues glide over each other, and it’s nothing like they ever imagined it to be. It’s better in every way.

Her hands comb through their hair, pulling them closer.

“Babe, baby.” She’s panting into their mouth, “I… we need to stop.”

Martin grumbles, but leans back anyway. Her wish is their command.

“God you turn me on.” Natasha chuckles breathlessly.

“Then why did you stop?”

“Because we’re not ready.” Natasha steals another kiss, “But seriously, I’m going to the bathroom for a bit.”

“Why?”

She raises an eyebrow, “I think you can figure that out for yourself handsome.”

“You… you…” They can’t bring themselves to finish the sentence, cheeks burning up at the thought, it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

They’ve turned her on. Natasha Romanoff is turned on. _And they did that._

Natasha chuckles, they must be pulling the oddest face in history, but they don’t mind her laughing. She’s cute when she laughs. So goddamn cute. They just want to kiss her forever.

And they can  now.

Their hands are still firm on her back and they pull her closer, kissing her again. She squeaks a little at their sudden rush of confidence, but she’s not protesting so they keep going.

They suck on her tongue and the moan Natasha lets out is just… _wow._

“Babe… fuck _Martin._ ”

The way she moans their name drives them completely crazy. It’s that husk combined with a little crack in her voice and they just can’t take it.

They’re not sure how they did it, but Natasha is flat on her back beneath them on the couch. And she seems to be loving it.

Her arms are around them, hands wandering from their shoulders to their neck, scratching at the little skin she finds. They’re on top of her, bodies flush against each other.

There’s kisses and groaning and Natasha grunts a little when they suck on her neck. It’s hot. They’re burning up. Their hands are gliding all over her, roughly rubbing her thighs, sides, everything they can touch.

Natasha moans, her hips angling up, and now there’s grinding and… _when did Natasha’s t-shirt ride up this much?_

“Baby, fuck, stop. We need to stop.” Natasha grunts but she’s still kissing them, and frankly it’s a little confusing, but they slow down the kiss anyway.

“Why do you do this to me?” She whines, blushing and smiling like the cat who got the cream, “I can’t be all chivalrous when you’re dry-humping me.”

“Sorry.” They’re not sorry at all, and Natasha matches their wide grin.

“I really need to… freshen up now.”

“You… uh… you can… uh… use the bedroom?”

Natasha chuckles, “What? You think I’m going masturbate? Babe, come on! Not in someone else’s home!”

“I don’t know…” They feel a little stupid, but Natasha kisses their cheek and it’s alright to be a little stupid with her, “I thought you were… _you know_.”

“Wet?” Natasha guesses and god they’re blushing so hard, “Yeah, but I can control myself you know. It’s just a bit uncomfortable.”

“Can I feel?”

They cringe. They did not mean to say that. It just popped out of its own and _can they please stop with the stupid now?_

“Martin, you know if I… if I let you, we’re going to have sex.” Natasha doesn’t seem to mind the question that much, though she’s blushing pretty hard, “And that’s just not a good idea yet. We’re not ready for that. So you’re going to pick something to watch, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

They nod hastily, not trusting themselves to say another word.

“I love you.” Natasha whispers.

“I love you too.”

They stare at her for a long while, until she starts giggling.

“Are you going to move off me? It’s kinda hard to go to the bathroom like this.”

“Oh shit, sorry.” They scramble to move away, flustered and awkward as always, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay baby.” Natasha moves up with them and kisses them again, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She smiles and moves off the couch, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving them alone with their own overwhelmed mind.

They just humped Natasha. Like a horny teenage boy. They humped her.

_God that’s embarrassing._

It was pretty amazing too though. More than amazing. And hot. So hot.

They’re turned on too, they’re wriggling uncomfortably in their seat. They’re not going to do anything about it though. Maybe after Natasha leaves. God knows the woman has seen enough of their dick already.

She’s going to think they’re an exhibitionist if they keep whipping it out at every opportunity.

Yeah, no more dick-whipping.

They want to slap themselves for how obsessed they are with their own dick. But then again, they don’t get to spend much time with it, so they have to cherish the moments they have. _And that sounds so stupid._

They’re not hard. If it was real, they’d probably be dying from blue balls, but it’s not so it’s just a small bulge in their pants. It kind of sucks.

They want to pull it up, make themselves hard, but Natasha is here, and they don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Not that anything can make Natasha uncomfortable, the woman seems completely unflappable. They still want to keep this evening a little bit decent.

Even though they were basically riding her leg like a dog five minutes ago.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Natasha is smirking at  them from the doorway, “You’re thinking pretty hard. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Hilarious.” They deadpan, but yeah, it was pretty funny, “Are those mine?”

Natasha pulls on the fabric of the sweatpants she’s wearing, “Yup, you mind?”

“Not at all.”

She plops back down on the couch, closer than before and they get a little kiss when they wrap her in their arms.

“A girl could get used to this.”

“I…I kind of hope so.”

Natasha just grins at them. They marvel at how odd it is that one smile from Natasha makes them feel like the most important person in the world. She just has a way with them.

They love her.

“Be my girlfriend?”

She looks at them, amusement dancing through her green eyes.

“I know I’m not… I’m not what you want. And you can do so much better than me.” Insecurity is taking over their brain, “I’m not… I’m not a great partner and I have lot of stuff to figure out and god knows I don’t even know how to start thinking about how to have sex with you but… but I love you. Like, a lot. And I know everyone always says that you can’t love someone unless you love yourself but that’s bullshit. It’s bullshit because I love you so much.”

“Babe,” Natasha silences them with a kiss and another radiant smile, “I love you too. Of course I want to be your girlfriend.”

“Yeah?”

Natasha kisses them, hard and very thoroughly, “Only if you’ll be my… whatever the hell you want, I don’t care, just be mine.”

“I… boyfriend. I want to be your boyfriend.” They mutter against her incessant lips, “But not… not when someone can hear?”

“Uhu.” Natasha doesn’t really seem to be listening, she’s on their lap again, claiming their mouth, “Just mine, I can do that. My boyfriend.”

“And not always… I’d feel awkward being Maria and your boyfriend at the same time.”

“Whatever you need,” Natasha vows again, “Just let me know, anything you need. Now shut up and let me kiss you.”

They’re stupid sometimes, but not stupid enough to deny Natasha, so they just lean back into the couch with the redhead on top of them. They go slack under her fervent touch, their own hands dancing over her back.

Her t-shirt is soft under their fingertips but suddenly, almost by accident, their fingers graze bare skin and _fuck them if it isn’t the softest skin they’ve ever felt_. They can’t help it, their hands sneak under her t-shirt, already addicted to the feel of Natasha’s skin.

Natasha doesn’t stop them, she just grunts loudly into their mouth, hips rocking forwards when they scratch her back lightly.

“I love you.” She whispers in between kisses, “I love you so much, fuck I love you.”

“Love you too.” They’re tugging at her shirt without even noticing it, raking it up, wanting it off.

“No baby, no.” Natasha pushes their hands back down, but she doesn’t stop her own touches, “Just making out, okay? No more.”

“I want more.” They whine, tugging at her t-shirt once more. They want more, they want so much more.

“Now you do.” Natasha chuckles, “But I’m not diving into bed with you without having figured out _how_ first. You know we’re not ready Martin.”

“I know, but I still _want_.”

“Me too handsome, I really want.” Natasha’s hands are still wandering all over them, “I really want.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not an expert on gender. I don't think anyone is because it's so personal. I can only speak from my own experiences and my own feelings.


End file.
